Bittersweet…

Change is never easy… and often bittersweet. And often it’s accompanied by having to say goodbye – sometimes to dreams… sometimes to places… and sometimes to people. And sometimes to all three.

Many of you know, that I’ve been working with World Vision for more than 14 years now. If you know me, you know how passionate I am about the work of World Vision, and my experience has deepened immensely over the last 5-6 years while being a part of the amazing team of people at Women of Faith, and being a part of the rich ministry that happens on the road through Chonda Pierce and her crew.

I’ve had the privilege of personally taking part in of over 80,000 World Vision children being sponsored through the tours I’ve been on the last decade or so. That, in and of itself, has been an incredible gift. Not to mention all the rich relationships that have been formed along the way. Thanks to folks like Twila Paris, Ron Kenoly, Avalon, Aaron-Jeffrey, Big Tent Revival, Newsboys, First Call, Cece Winans, Israel Houghton, Margaret Becker, Natalie Grant, Skillet, Martha Munizzi, Mark Lowry and countless independent artists. Oh the stories I could tell (don’t worry – I won’t – what happens on the bus dies with the bus).  All that said, I’ve never taken this gift for granted. There are some hefty sacrifices that come with this line of work… but there’s some pretty sweet perks, too.

However, for the last couple of years I’ve been feeling the weight of not being in “community” where I live. There’s something to be said for having people that walk with you every day. Something to be said for knowing… and for being known. And there’s something to be said when that’s missing in your life.

So, two years ago I started trying to find something full time, off the road, with which I could be as earnest… but it seemed nothing short of futile. However, a few weeks ago, I began conversations with an organization called Siloam Family Health Center. It’s a local clinic here in Nashville (15 min from my home) that serves immigrants and refugees from around the world. They believe in providing quality health care in the name of Christ… to those who are uninsured and could not afford care otherwise. http://www.siloamhealth.org

They have offered me a full time position (w/benefits!) as their Development Writer & Coordinator. My role is to write all content for the organization including web, print, media, donor correspondence and grants. They have also asked me to focus on donor engagement – an area that’s needed more attention.

I’ve gratefully accepted the position.  As a communications & journalism major, I’m thrilled to be “officially” using these skills. And simultaneously saddened to let go of something I’ve cherished for so long. Bittersweet indeed.

Yes, change is hard. But change, in this case, is very good. My soul is already being nourished at Siloam as I’m finding myself smack dab in the midst of my given-by-God abilities and brushing off skills that had become a little rusty. But as they say, it’s like riding a bike. Balancing creativity and business, along with honing my marketing motor skills… is all quickly returning.

I realize there are changes that are not welcome…  a loved one is no longer in your life; you lose a job you love with no immediate prospect; “the change” of life for women 🙂 ; or suddenly being struck with a debilitating disease… the list is literally endless. So please, please do not hear me say that all change is good. I know that many of you are fighting it with all you’ve got. I merely want to encourage those who may be fearing a change that could be life-altering in a great way… to just take the leap. Because the good news is… there’s a God who never changes. Who never wavers. Whose goodness and justice is constant. So even when this world throws us a curve ball we didn’t see comin’… we can rest assured. We are in good hands.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17

Moisturize… Moisturize… Moisturize…

Dear Readers…

Thought I’d take this opportunity to recommend a GREAT product. I haven’t done much of this but with SO many product options out there, and SO many ads spinning the “truth” about their products… it’s very helpful when people recommend a tried & true product. It saves a lot of frustration, time and money. And I confess, I get a little kick out of doing research and then testing the goods….

So, at the risk of TMI (Too Much Information)… I have a very flaky forehead. Mostly in the Winter months. But this year, even though it’s still early Fall, my flaky forehead has emerged in full force. I mean, it’s a minor phenomenon. Completely fine one day, then wake up the next and I’ve become a scaly shedding lizard.

So, off to Rite Aid I went… ball cap pulled down low over my forehead… in search of a remedy for my full scale (no pun) flakiness.  Researching a head of time, and with some previous experience with Olay products… I decided to try give the “Regenerist” line a try.

The Daily Thermal Mini-Peel is a miracle worker. Mild enough (and suggested) to use every day… it gently removes that top, rough layer of skin and leaves you silky smooth. Follow up with the Age Defying Intensive Nourishing Night Cream. Yep, I’m using it during the day… rebel that I am. But I’m that desperate.

People, it’s a little expensive. I mean, not in comparison to high-end-department store brands. But it’s $22.00 for the mini-peel and $12.00 for the night cream. A little investment… but totally worth it. One use and I already feel like I have a new face.

So if you have a flaky forehead or any other part of your face… stop by Rite Aid or Walgreen’s and pick up these little gems. You won’t regret it.

And here’s to a flake-free Winter.

a little too personal…

Being a believer and follower of Christ… I have come to terms with the fact that, for now, we live in a broken and fallen world. I don’t like it, but I know that “It is what it is” (to quote my friend Bone Hampton – he says this phrase almost never follows anything good).  But because my hope is in Christ and I know that this life and these circumstances are temporary – I wait. And I hope. And I wait.

But every once in awhile. I struggle. Not with doubt, but with patience. With not understanding why earthly restoration is taking… so… stinking… long. “Why Lord, why must You delay your coming back? Why must we wait any longer for You to make all things new and right again?”

Mostly I get like this when the brokenness hits close to home. Because my occupation is one that deals with some of the most broken places and people in the world… it’s important that I learn to sit in the “now and the not yet”. Reconciling current reality with a hope for the future. But I have to admit… this is easier when I don’t have a personal relationship with those who are suffering. I am moved by their photos, their stories, their pleas. But I am not usually undone by them.

But then things hit closer to home. Suddenly friends and family are in the fire. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.

I’m a fixer by nature. And when things are beyond my scope of abilities… I’m not happy. Arrogant, I know. And I’m especially frustrated when I am “reduced” to faith and praying. I say “reduced” in quotes because I know that faith and praying are elevated callings and are by no means considered a reduction. But my sinful nature wreaks havoc on my perspective… and I feel reduced. Oh yea, John 3:30 says “He must increase, and I must decrease.” I often (conveniently) forget that verse.

These last 2 weeks have weighed heavily on my heart. Many of the people I care very much for… have been suffering. And there’s nothing I can do about it. And my ugly arrogant pride rises up and wants to take action. But I’m learning to die to that. Learning to decrease so He will increase. It’s a life-long process, I’m afraid.

Here are some of the people I am praying for if you want to join me – though, I totally understand if you already have your own overwhelming list.

• Two young teens who I used to tutor just lost their sweet mama, Gwen, to a heart attack this past Sunday. They bury her tonight. Gwen was also an Aunt to one of the other students I tutored.
• Another friend called me to tell me that her dad was just diagnosed with cancer.
• Another friend’s mom passed away last week from Scleroderma.  He buries her tomorrow.
• My own mother called to tell me her “numbers” are bad again. She has Stage 4 Bone Cancer.
• Another friend who has cancer was told he should have those final conversations with his wife and family.
• My oldest niece has been in and out of the hospital due to an ulcer and chest pains. She’s 23.
• Another friend’s marriage ended.
• And yet another friend recently gave birth to a still born.

This has all happened, roughly, in the last 10 days or so. It’s easy for me to wallow in the chaos of broken places. To dwell my thoughts in places that are dark, and even add to their darkness by obstructing the truth of hope. This can happen when I find comfort in self-pity or delight in drama.

Don’t get me wrong… I’m not getting all Pollyanna on you. I’m not suggesting that I, or anyone else, deny the feelings of the pain of our own or each others’ hard places. We are to “bear one anothers’ burdens, thereby fulfilling the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2). Bear… as in carry, feel, assist… and that can be wearisome for both parties. But, when we are strong enough again, it’s important to help point ourselves and each other toward the cross. Toward Christ Himself. Remember friend?  Remember self?  This is why He did what He did. He has absorbed the punishment and provided life when and where we could not.

So all that to say… I have caught myself being a little overwhelmed with sorrow and concern this week… and rightfully so. I mean, there seems to have been a land-swell of brokenness in the lives of people I care about.  Topped by my normal occupation which requires a passion for people I’ve never met…  it can be quite an emotional flood.

And my reason for blogging all this is simply to remind myself that God is on His throne… and sometimes that’s all I need to know.

Thanks for praying with me.

-Deb

Ray…

I live in a split-level duplex. The man upstairs (no, I don’t mean Him), who I lovingly refer to as “the upstairs roommate” is named Ray. Ray has lived here for 22 years. If the owner of this house ever sells – the buyer must understand that Ray is a package deal. He “ain’t goin’ nowhere”…

Ray drives a truck. But he’s not what you would call a trucker. Though he’s got the right hat. Mesh in the back, bright green, sits up high and a little crooked. Not the cool intentional Ashton Kutcher kinda way – but in that ‘I get dressed without a mirror’ kinda way. And he wears a plaid shirt. And Dungaree’s. Okay, well maybe he is a trucker. He’s technically retired but still has a run every week or so.

I get his mail when he’s gone. And he gets mine and watches for packages. He always brings my trash cans in from the curb. I mow the spot where he parks his car and put his morning paper on his step. We are good neighbors to each other.

When Ray gets home from a string of deliveries…  he likes to come sit on my porch and tell me the play-by-play details of his run. Including all his dive hotel stops and what he ate for dinner each night. Driving a truck can be lonely. I bet he’s been saving up all that chit-chat.

Ray always signs off our conversations by hollering over his shoulder as he clunks up his metal stairway… “Be safe, ya hear?”. He seems serious most of the time, but his crooked smile is sweet and and he laughs easily. And when he laughs his nose crinkles up so much that his glasses slide down to the tip and then he pushes them back into place with his two fingers right in the center of the lenses… leaving two big finger prints right in his eye-line. This apparently doesn’t bother him.

When not on the road, Ray drives an old beat up Chevy Nova painted with gray primer.  He put fake stick-on bullet holes on the trunk. He thinks it’s funny and that it makes him look like he’s “been in a battle”. He likes to think of himself as a “bad ass”. But he also says things like, “I’m goin’ for a little walkie-poo”.

Walkie-poo.  Yep.  That’s what he says.

He also says little gems like, “I’ve been busier than a one-armed paper hanger”. And, “I’m doin’ alright fer an ol’ fella!”

He collects model cars. Hundreds of them. I’ve never been in his apartment but I can see them through the window, in their original boxes, stacked floor to ceiling. He goes to trade shows and has a buddy who buys and sells them on ebay for him. “I don’t need no new-fangled computer… prolly goin’ outa style anyway… so why bother learnin’?”  I try to tell them that one, they’re not “new-fangled”  anymore and two, they’re pretty much gonna stick around. But he’ll have none of it.

Ray is a creature of habit. Every Saturday night, at 5:45pm… he emerges with slicked-back hair and a bolo-tie adorning his plaid shirt. He’s off to Saturday night mass… “Gotta pay God my respects… make sure He knows I’ve been a good boy!”

I adore Ray. He’s sweet and kind and a little doddering. But I know he has a deeper story. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet. It’s taken me 4 years to get him on the porch. He still hasn’t come inside my house yet.  I know that he was almost married once but  then she ran off with someone else.  And I know that he sends every member of his family birthday cards and Christmas cards… “even the ones that don’t speak to me no more.”  He spends most holidays alone, unless he can find a buddy to go to Shoney’s with him.  I’ve invited him, included him and have taken him food but so far he’s refused all the invites. But I’m hopeful. And persistent.

When I first moved into this place 6 years ago… I introduced myself and my roommate at the time… all friendly-like. He quickly put up his hands and said, “I’m just an old guy and I keep to myself.”

And I thought, “We’ll see about that Ray… we’ll see about that.”

The Temptation To Be Relevant

I have been fighting a handicap all my life.

I consider it a handicap because it can be debilitating at times. And often, I have to consciously decide to overcome it because it is so much a part of my DNA, that left unchecked, I automatically default to it.

What’s my handicap? My desire to be relevant. To be revered based on my abilities, talents and skills. To be thought of as valuable, that I have something to offer, that I am necessary.

Now, none of those things seem evil in-and-of themselves. But when they become my main motivation and expectation in relationships, when I have fully convinced myself that these things are the litmus for my validity… then I have a problem.

This disability has several names.

People Pleasing.
Savior Complex.
Sin.

It started at an early age. My family didn’t have a lot of money but my mom was a genius at fostering creativity. Teaching us to entertain ourselves and each other was a priceless gift. We weren’t inundated with toys and gadgets as so many kids are these days. So we learned to put on plays and fashion shows, we built blanket-forts in the living room, we made believe we were Indians while sleeping in a tee-pee in the back yard, we pretended we were various animals (once my sister barked for an entire day!) and we read books under our giant shade tree. Our entertainment was endless.

But once a year, usually during the long California summer, mom would take us to the toy store and my sister and I were to choose one item each.  It was to last us until Christmas, so we’d better make it a good one.

Being the animal lovers that we are… we usually gravitated toward a stuffed bear or a

floppy-eared puppy… or my favorite find when I was 5 years old – a stuffed monkey with tennis shoes, red suspenders and a plastic banana (I think he was supposed to be Curious George, but I insisted on calling him Mr. Bimm. this is really close to what he looked like).

Now, this is how I know that my handicap started early in life: My sister would spend hours, going through each and every stuffed animal, looking for the one that was perfect. It could have no flaws. No frayed ribbons or crooked bows. Her choice had to be perfectly fluffy, perfectly spot-free and was usually a perfectly smiling panda or cheerful puppy.

My choice took just as long to discover… but because I would go through each and every plush critter until I found the one that was stained, dirty, missing an eye, had its mouth sewn on crooked and/or had lost its buttons, bells or ribbons. Because… heroic 5 year old that I was… I was sure that if “I” didn’t rescue that down-trodden furry friend… no one else would! My goodness, I thought a lot of myself at the tender age of five.

I’ve told this story before and usually the initial reaction is one of sentiment (especially from women – just sayin’). “Oh, isn’t that the sweetest thing…”.  No people…. this is not sweet. It is sick. Sick. Sick Sick. I mean, I was barely ready for Kindergarten and I already had a Savior Complex! So certain I could save the world one rag-tag toy at a time!

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not being overly hard on myself. I’m merely recognizing that we are all born with a sinful nature and each of us has a propensity towards certain sins… and this one is mine. All mine. Since birth, probably.

Here’s the Good News. We already have a Savior. And it’s not me (big unanimous sigh of relief). Yes, the Bible tells us we’re to emulate Christ. But it doesn’t tell us to try and replace Him. Cause, well… that’s impossible.  So I’ve had to try and figure out how to maneuver through life using this handicap to His glory and not to my own selfish schemes.

The other Good News is that Christ has the ability to take what can be my downfall… and turn it into something that fulfills His purposes. Can I get an amen? Its a constant challenge, to question my motives and confront my handicap. Granted, my life’s work and my extra-curricular activities have benefited from this savior complex of mine… I just have to be faithful and asking the Lord for forgiveness every time I try and get in the way. For example, if I’m honest, when I’m helping someone out – my natural inclination is that I want them to experience me, not Christ. I want them to walk away thinking, “Deb’s so great… so helpful. I’m so glad she’s in my life.” When they should be walking away praising God that He has provided for them and the whole experience should draw them closer to the One who truly loves them well. Yea, I can easily get in the way if I’m not paying attention.

So that’s why I’m so grateful for authors like Henri Nouwen who address this topic so openly, simply and profoundly. Here’s an excerpt from one of his many books, In The Name of Jesus (you need to read this especially if you’re the head of a family, a ministry and even a business). I could easily have quoted the entire book here – but here is what is speaking to me at the moment:

…it has become apparent that more and more people are suffering from profound moral and spiritual handicaps without having any idea of where to look for healing. It is here that the need for a new Christian leadership becomes clear. The leader of the future will be one who dares to claim his irrelevance in the contemporary world as a divine vocation tat allows him or her to enter into a deep solidarity with the anguish underlying all the glitter of success and to bring the light of Jesus there.

The mystery of ministry is that we have been chosen to make our own limited and very conditional love the gateway for the unlimited and unconditional love of God.

– Henri Nouwen

One of the underlying themes in most, if not all, of Henri’s books is that the best way for people to experience Jesus through you… is for you to enter into deep relationship with them. To feel their pain, to cry with them, to laugh with them and dance with them.  Not to answer all the questions or provide solutions to their “why’s”. Not to become their social worker or to be their problem solver or their rescuer or their faux-savior. Just be with them.

There is beautiful relevance found in Christ… and it’s felt most profoundly in our irrelevance.

why am i still single, you ask?

Generally, I avoid this topic like the plague. But it’s been coming up more frequently these days and I’m feeling the need to make an official statement.

Because the masses cry, “Deb, why are you still single?”

Okay, so maybe not the masses… but I do get that question more times than I care to admit. Granted, sometimes I’m flattered, like when people say they’re shocked I’m still single. But then there’s always that follow-up question… “So… why is that?”

Friends, Family, Countrymen. I wish I had an answer that was satisfying to all.  But I don’t.  In past blogs, I’ve tried to wrap things up with a neat bow.  I not only wanted to encourage others who are in my same position, but I wanted to provide an answer. And though I still stand by what I wrote… I don’t think it’s as complicated as I may have made it out to be.

It’s true. I am single. And I have never been married. Sure, I’ve come close a couple of times. I even returned an engagement ring once. But “sealing the deal” just hasn’t happened. And I realize, that as a forty-something year old woman, I’m somewhat of an anomaly. And I’m okay with that… I mean, it could be worse.

Back to the topic: Why am I still single?  What a great question. Often my friends try to answer it for me. “You’ve spent too much of your life working in a career that isn’t really conducive to meeting someone.” “You’ve just not met Mr Right.” “Maybe you’re being too picky.” Or my favorite, when they blame the men, “They just don’t know what they’re missing!”

But regardless… here is the only answer I have:

Because so far, God has deemed it so.

Hard to argue with, I know. Hard to blame-shift or point an accusing finger.

Reality is, it doesn’t matter what my career is or who I have met or haven’t met and it doesn’t matter if I’m picky or not.  If I’m living in a dung hut in the middle of the Maasai Mara and God decided he wanted me to meet someone, He would make it happen.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not advocating hiding or running from love and seeing if God will still make it happen.  If that’s where you are then I have a couple of counselor friends I can recommend to you. Seriously.

Love is wild and wonderful and illusive and consuming. It can cause you to be fabulous one day and do something utterly stupid the next. But we were created for this very thing. Flawed as it may be… for now. The only Perfect Love out there is from the One who created us. Everything, and everyone, here on earth is merely a foretaste of what’s to come one day. So for now… we can only stumble through it all… merely praying and hoping to receive AND give grace generously.

So why am I still single? Because God has deemed it so.

For now.

Whether He changes my status here on earth or whether I must wait a little longer… I could be in no better hands.

And that, I wouldn’t change for the world.

in the light of eternity…

My good friend Leann used to tell me, “Everything looks different in the light of eternity”.  She was a missionary in Brazil, so I figured she knew what she was talking about. That was close to 20 years ago.

I’ve never forgotten those words. And I’ve repeated them to myself over the years. But then I came across a prayer… in a little, tiny unassuming book… that brought them to an even greater degree of light.

And it’s become my constant prayer for the last 10 years. It was written by John Baillie, a Scottish theologian born in the late 1800’s.  It’s an excerpt from his 1936 publishing,  A Diary of Private Prayer.  It’s taken a deep root in my heart during this past decade… and has helped me through many a disappointment and unrealized dream. And though it has become part of my fabric… there is still much work to be done in my heart. Once again, I’m finding myself in need of this prayer, so I thought it a good time to share this rich and meaty invocation.

May it help you tweak your perspective, take a deep breath… and remember why we’re here.

O eternal God, though Thou art not such as I can see with my eyes or touch with my hands, yet grant me this day a clear conviction of Thy reality and power. Let me not go forth to my work believing only in the world of sense and time, but give me grace to understand that the world I cannot see or touch is the most real world of all. My life today will be lived in time, but eternal issues will be concerned in it.  The needs of my body will be clamant, but it is for the needs of my soul that I must care for most. My business will be with things material, but behind them let me be aware of things spiritual. Let me keep steadily in my mind that the things that matter most are not money or possessions, not houses or lands, not bodily comfort or bodily pleasure; but truth and honour and meekness and helpfulness and a pure love of Thyself.

I, a pilgrim of eternity, stand before Thee, O eternal One. Let me not seek to deaden or destroy the desire for Thee that disturbs my heart. Let me rather yield myself to its constraint and go where it leads me.  Make me wise to see all things today under the form of eternity, and make me brave to face all the changes in my life which such a vision may entail: through the grace of Christ my Saviour. Amen.

World Vision blogging trip in the Dominican Republic

Nashville is facing a major crisis at the moment and we’re still trying to bail ourselves out of the largest non-hurricane related flood disaster this country has ever seen.  It’s now being hailed  The 1000 Year Flood – meaning it’s only likely to happen once every 1000 years. It’s mind-boggling and tragic. Many have lost their lives, their loved ones, their homes, their jobs, their stuff. However, I decided not to dedicate and entire blog to this situation – there are so many people already doing that. If you want to read more – here is an excellent tribute to what we Nashvillians have been facing.

What’s difficult to remember during a time like this is that the rest of the world continues to spin… and in many places it’s still spinning our of control. And it has been for years. For most Third World countries, the severity of our Nashville disaster is a regular occurrence. They are in crisis-mode every single day. We panic because we have to cut our water usage in half while places the Dominican Republic have to worry whether or not their drinking water is going to kill them or not. That’s not a slam to what we’re going through here… just an observation and a bit of perspective.

I, by no means, am trying to reduce the perception of what’s happening here in Music City… I just want to encourage people (especially those of us in middle Tennessee) to not forget that the majority of the world suffers daily. I want to take this moment and in some small way… try to relate. I want to remember that we are all brothers and sisters and are children of God. We are all made in His image and created to worship our great Creator. And we all deserve a chance to do just that…

All that said, there is a group of regular bloggers that, as we speak, are in the Dominican Republic with World Vision. They’re visiting some of the sites where we work, and are seeing firsthand the depth of the need that this beautiful country has faced for years. And it’s gotten worse ever since the Haiti earthquake… as they’re now inundated with Haitian refugees.

Below is the list of bloggers on this trip. Read their words… following their journey. And join them as they pray for their hearts to be broken by the things that break the heart of God.

ohamanda.com
jesusneedsnewpr.net
themomcreative.com
thediaperdiaries.net
mommysnacks.net
bargainbriana.com

Never Ride With A Pro

My friends, Katy & Kenny Hutson were asking for poem submissions for a contest their doing with Eastside Cycles and though I’m not qualified to enter (it’s for kids)… I thought I’d send them a funny poem anyway. This is about a ride I took with a friend, Mark Miller... a few years ago. My first and last time agreeing to cycle with a pro.

Never Ride With A Pro

The down hills were sweet
My face full of the wind
I love the speed…
Let’s do it again!

But uphill was tragic
Can’t get out of my seat
Peddling lost its magic
I’m nothin’ but beat

Along comes my riding pal
not out of breath
“You’re lookin’ good gal!”
“I may beat him to death”.

I felt his hand on my back
pushing me up hill
peddling for us both
not out of breath… still

Humbled and shamed
I hung my head low
This isn’t the way
I pictured it would go

“Cheer up Deb!
It’s what Armstrong does…
When his teammates are weary
He gives em a shove!”

“I realize you’re just helping
Giving me a fighting chance…
And that’s great for you…
Cause YOU get to be Lance!”

Noticing…

I’ve been on the road since Easter… which was 9 days ago… I have 4 days to go before pulling into my own driveway and becoming one with my pillow. Sometimes, on these long stretches, I can get lost in the busyness of it all… and forget to notice. I forget to look up from my computer or iphone or whatever task is at hand… and just notice things. When I don’t, I miss out on beauty and humor and opportunities to offer encouragement if someone’s down or even take note of how my own actions are affecting others. I can miss those teachable moments – for myself – and miss the chance to know where I can improve.

So I’ve tried to be better at it this week… tried to take notice and notes. Here’s what I’m seeing around me, experiencing in others and learning about myself:

• I have sincerely taken for granted the ability to flush paper down the toilet. Welcome to bus life.
• I didnt realize how I have missed the beach. My soul welled-up just stepping onto the sand.
• The Carolina’s are deadly in the Spring but the second a good rain washes away the pollen… it’s breathtakingly lush and green…
• There are a lot of churches with concessions in their lobbies. I don’t just mean coffee and donuts. But popcorn, candy, smoothies, soft drinks. I’ve even seen a churro machine. Are we really a society that can’t go 2 hours without a beverage or snack?
• I love a contagious laugh. My friend Chonda Pierce, who’s the comedian I’m traveling with has a laugh that fills the bus and our souls. And she laughs a lot. It’s very good therapy.
• I also love the way many black men laugh. Deep, hearty, falling back with their fist covering their mouth like they just can’t take it anymore kinda laughter. My friend Bone Hampton, also on the bus with us… keeps me totally entertained just with his laugh. It’s a roll back on the couch hold his sides fist to mouth barely breathing kinda laughter. It’s intoxicating.
• Young people continue to energize me. I keep thinking that as I get older, they may start to wear me out. But just the opposite. I have a youth group helping me tonight. And I’m loving every single minute. They are wide-eyed and invincible. I pray no one tells them otherwise.
• Southern women amuse me. I love their sultry accents and their wiley-ways. I’m nothing like them… but I can admire a good North Carolina drawl and a sweeping of the hand that gestures for another mint julep.  Okay, I may have romanticized this a bit.
• And I do love Southern men… that sweet buttery drawl just makes them sound so gentile. I mean, in a manly kind of way. Actually, I’m drawn to any man with just about any accent. It’s enough to make me swoon.
• When someone starts irritating me… and I mean, really irritating me… like when they just have to one-up every single thing I say… (think Penelope from SNL) … it helps to take a deep breath and ask myself why they need to out-do even the smallest thing I mention (Me: I love being on a boat  Her: I built a boat once. Me: My favorite color is orange. Her: My mom invented the color orange.)….and realize that she has a deep need to be valued and heard and recognized… and for some reason she feels the need to fight for it. Someone has stolen that dignity from her and probably didn’t give her a voice and so I exhale and ask her about the boat she built and listen intently and hope she feels valued even for just a minute. I’m still a bit irritated… but I’m making progress.
• I really really really like fried pickles.
• I’ve made a new friend on the road. Sandy, the tour manager. She is incredibly nurturing and has an impeccable attention to detail… like when someone’s glass is empty or someone looks tired or the toilet paper role is empty or whatever the need… she’s quick to meet it. Everyone says she has a servant’s heart. I think she has a mother’s heart… maybe those are one in the same.

That’s it so far… but I have a few days to go. It’s hard to be present when you are exhausted. But I’m up for the challenge. I want to know people to a greater level. Because everyone has a story. A history. A present. A future. Entering into someone’s story is a privilege. If you’re lucky you become a part of it, and they a part of yours. It’s the art of sharing life together. I don’t want to leave a set of solitary footprints in this world. I mean, I don’t necessarily want it to look like I had the Verizon Network behind me or anything… but I do want a good solid family of footprints. Ones that are facing toward each other… and that are near each other… so you know there’s been embraces and hand-holding and long looks in the eyes. So you know that we knew each other.

That’s what I’m hoping for…